


tease

by threadoflife



Series: femlock verse [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/F, Female Sherlock Holmes/Female John Watson, Femlock, Femslash, Porn, clits deserve love, ladies having orgasms, sherlock is a bit greedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-22
Updated: 2017-01-22
Packaged: 2018-09-19 05:04:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9419969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/threadoflife/pseuds/threadoflife
Summary: Even when John really wants to go to sleep--and actually needs to sleep, too--a horny part inside of her takes care to lay down beside Sherlock in a way that enables Sherlock to get closer to her favourite places...





	

**Author's Note:**

> again, sorry for title dsjkfsd;Jsldfs

John has big boobs. She’s mostly fond of them, only had an episode every now and then in Afghanistan when they were in the way—heavy, sweaty, _useless_. She didn’t like them then. But mostly she does; she’s careful with them, because sometimes they are tender when she’s on her period, and then she frankly can’t stand not wearing a bra because they feel too heavy. Other times she’s rougher with them, gripping them tightly or pinching her nipples until they hurt.

Her favourite thing is having Sherlock tease them when they’re about to go to sleep. John really wants to sleep, but a horny part inside herself takes care to lay close to Sherlock on her back with her head on Sherlock’s shoulder so Sherlock’s left hand can easily reach her chest. Sherlock brushes her thumb over John’s flat nipple, back and forth, slowly and barely there—then just over the areola, a maddening little circle. She does that so long until John grows impatient and nudges her nose none too gently against Sherlock’s neck—and Sherlock laughs, then, low and fond, and gives her a sudden tight pinch that has John arching her back before she even know what she’s doing.

Then there is no more teasing, or not as much as before. It’s still teasing, but it’s the way John likes it. Sherlock shuffles a little so she can work her arm—which is under John—so far out that she can reach with both hands for John’s tits. She begins to pluck at John’s nipples in a maddening way that leaves them tight and aching, and John arches her back to get more of it.

It’s not two minutes later that Sherlock is sucking on her throat and John has two fingers inside herself and is tracing sweet-hot, slick circles around her clit with her thumb. Her “mmh”s are high and her cunt is making a racket—squishy, wet sounds; she’s _soaking_ —and something about it seems to drive Sherlock crazy because she suddenly sits up with a groan and grips John’s left breast tightly, bends down, and sucks John’s nipple so hard into her mouth it hurts. The hot, wet shock of it makes John’s toes curl, and she pulls her fingers out of herself to fist Sherlock’s hair roughly—and then she tugs at her head and pushes her back down and sets the rhythm, and Sherlock makes hungry, broken sounds against her chest, her lips unforgiving around John’s aching bud.

John’s thighs spread in frustration and she can’t decide what she wants more—a finger on her clit or inside of her—and Sherlock, god, her genius girlfriend, just reaches down, and thank god for her long limbs—she pushes her index and middle finger right up inside John where she wants it, and John says, “oh, _yes_ ,” and pulls harder at her hair. She doesn’t have to tell Sherlock she wants to be fucked, because Sherlock is already doing that, and the soft, wet sounds multiply. John turns her head into the pillow and breathes open-mouthed against it, muttering, “Sherlock, yes, Sherlock,” in an obsessive rhythm—and then her thighs already clench, her cunt clamps down, and she presses her lips together and exhales hard through her nose.

When it’s over—not five seconds later—she sighs and closes her eyes.

“Disappointing one tonight?” Sherlock asks quietly into her armpit. John hums wordlessly, which makes Sherlock sigh. “You know I could—”

“It’s fine,” John says automatically. “Let’s sleep.”

“ _Fuck fine_ ,” Sherlock snaps suddenly and sits up. She hovers over John, her eyes glinting from the dim streetlight filtering in through the curtains. John just stares up at her. “I don’t want fine, I want spectacular. I want you _writhing_. And I want it now.”

Before John has even so much as blinked, Sherlock is already between her legs and has pushed them apart. She doesn’t give John a chance to react—just gets onto her belly, spreads John’s cunt with her thumbs, and buries her face in it.

Sherlock’s tongue is sharp when she’s lashing out or verbally eviscerated someone. When it’s between John’s legs, Christ—then it’s _insane_.

John is whimpering nonstop three minutes into it, her hands in Sherlock’s hair pulling recklessly. Her thighs are made of molten lava, her stomach clenching. She’s so wet she can feel it between her arse cheeks. And Sherlock doesn’t stop—just keeps licking relentlessly at that one spot just underneath John’s clit—just a bit down and a bit to the right—it’s a sensation like liquid heat that keeps pulling tighter, that makes John’s feet scrabble against the mattress, her head tip back to moan long and low.

That makes her hiss, “Yes, oh, yes, Sherlock, yes, yes, _please_ ,” over and over until it finally sweeps over her in an intense wave of heat—and her cunt spasms, four, five times, powerful contractions that would have felt even better with three fingers inside, but John is so high on Sherlock’s tongue she doesn’t need fucking fingers.

Sherlock’s hair is a riot around her face when she resurfaces, and John pulls her into a kiss and whispers, “You’re brilliant, I love you, I love you,” in between until Sherlock is smiling against her mouth.


End file.
